


Wild Life

by Genoa_Lexia



Series: Soulmate Series [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genoa_Lexia/pseuds/Genoa_Lexia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton didn't know many people that had met their soulmate already - only Rian and Cassadee, really - he could see the way it had changed them, though. It was almost as though they exuded light or colour or something when they were around each other - pure happiness, maybe.</p><p>Everyone could do with some of that, Ashton thought. It wasn't as though he was unhappy - he had possibly the coolest job in the world and a great circle of friends and a freezer that was nearly always full of Ben & Jerry's. He would like to meet his soulmate, though.</p><p>And the flashes (real-time glimpses into your soulmate's life to help you find each other) had been getting for frequent over the last year, or so - that means it'll be happening soon. Ashton's hopeful, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

It's like there's a flash of light and suddenly the world is in high definition - it's technicolour when you didn't even realise you'd been living in grayscale before. Everything's the same but now you just feel safer. For the first few seconds time slows down and that moment is the start of infinity. It's meant to be like the first time you hear your favourite song - not yet familiar but there's a feeling of future importance, something you'll have memorised as soon as the seconds change. These are the stories you hear from your earliest memory - it's not your 'other half', you're not 'incomplete' without them. Instead, they'll be the spark that'll set your soul alight; the key to unlock the final facet of who you are; your soulmate will be the gravity allowing your moon to turn the final tide and become your firework-in-the-perfect-night success.

 

* * *

 

 

The rain had been pouring incessantly for the last three hours, completely blocking out the usual sounds of traffic that Ashton had become used to - he did live on a main road, after all. He could only imagine the way it must be wrinkling the hands of the people walking outside, probably soaking right through every layer of clothing - it was that kind of rain. He found himself gazing out the window, admiring the waves of water gushing onto the pavement as the cars and buses and trucks pushed through the heavily-gathered puddles that littered the road's gutter. The sight was oddly mesmerising.

The clock on Ashton's desk jolted him out of his reverie - he was meant to be working. He hadn't really done anything at all this morning, though. The rhythm of the rain had had him completely distracted for the last few hours, he was lucky to work from home, doubting his lack of work would be something his boss would want to know about. Maybe it was a drummer's thing. Of course, drumming was only a hobby of his but sometimes he could make a bit of extra money out of it, when the recording studio his flatmate worked at needed a session drummer.

The rain was absolutely beating down and, before too long, Ashton had, once again, completely forgotten he was meant to be working. He'd never seen rain this heavy in his life - the only time he'd seen it anywhere close to this was in a soulmate-flash he'd had back when he was seventeen. He remembered it completely clearly, not that anyone ever really forgot what they'd seen in their flashes - most people kept journals charting what they'd seen over the course of their lives in the run-up to the day they met them. Ashton thought it was a cute idea but was always just the tiniest bit too lazy to get around to doing it. It wasn't something he couldn't really start at 20-years old, anyway.

 He guessed that the fact he'd never really seen rain like this before meant his soulmate didn't live anywhere too near to him. They could've moved in the last three years, of course. Maybe, maybe not. It wasn't as though that particular flash had shown anywhere particularly specific or exotic. His soulmate had been playing football in the pouring rain on a completely mud-drenched pitch. There had been a lot of shouting and Ashton remembered being surprised that his soulmate had managed not to slip.

Ashton had never really been into football - he just never got into it, he supposed. He was more of a swimmer. He'd been pretty good, actually, back in the day, and some of his best memories were from galas and just practising. To this day, the pool and the ocean were probably the only places he was ever completely comfortable and relaxed. No offence to his flatmate. Niall was a lovely guy, of course. Ash had met him at the under-15 state swimming competition, Niall wasn't competing though. Ashton couldn't but laugh at the idea of Niall engaging in that kind of sporting activity. That was one of his favourite memories, actually. He still had the silver medal he'd won for the 200m breaststroke, still had all his medals, actually. They were at his family's house, though. Ashton and Niall's flat wasn't big enough to have that kind of stuff.

The incessant rain picked up tempo and volume again and Ashton pulled himself from his thoughts. He finally picked the envelope containing his briefing for work this week and pulled out its contents. He was a writer for the regional magazine Solarscape which covered all types of entertainment, really - music, films, galleries, museums. The magazine came out weekly and had a circulation of just over a million (Ashton tried not to read into the fact that it had rather dramatically increased since he'd become a full-time writer but, to be honest, it would be pretty ignorant for him not to have noticed how much people enjoyed his column).

The column was, along with the advice and overheard-in-the-street segments, one of the only parts of the magazine that wasn't limited to the arts, subject-wise. Ash liked this, in the way that it allowed him to show the other aspects of his personality, as well as the main, music-oriented side of it. The only thing he didn't completely love about the column was that he wasn't allowed to choose the topics he would cover himself - they were assigned.

This week, he discovered, reading through the paragraph he'd given as a brief, he would be writing about public transport. At first, this seemed quite dull but it then occurred to Ashton that it would basically be an excuse for 800 words of complaining. He was rather looking forward to it, actually. There was some research required, though, as he'd become accustomed to driving around in the little Fiat he'd had since he'd passed his test, aged 17. He couldn't really remember the last time he'd needed to take public transport, actually - he didn't tend to go anywhere far enough to warrant it.

Ashton picked up the second of the three briefs he had for this week's issue - three was the most articles he tended to get in a set of briefings. He needed to write a review of some book he hadn't heard of - Wildlife by Fiona Wood. He didn't know who that author was, either. The piece of paper said his copy of the book would probably arrive with the late-evening post. He wasn't really looking forward to having to read that book and write the review within the week.

The third piece of paper said he was in charge of the magazine’s twitter feed for the week. Brilliant. Not at all a waste of time - tweeting 20 times (at least) within the next 6 1/2 days. Don't get him wrong, Ashton loved his job. He'd been working there since he was sixteen, slowly working his way up in the business-ladder (he liked how professional that made him sound). He'd got the job after a fortnight of work experience - mainly fetching tea and making photocopies of things but he'd enjoyed it. After that, he'd got a part-time job there - helping with the printing on Friday evenings and Saturday mornings and loading the batches of the magazine into the delivery vans to go to the various news agents in the area. He'd finally began to work there full time upon his leaving school. Ash had submitted a review ('demo article') of a Cat Empire concert he'd been to and they'd liked it and then, about a year later, he'd been given his own column.

Ashton let out a huge sigh and powered up his laptop - he really should start working now. There literally wasn't any reason for his procrastination - he loved writing, whatever the topic, pretty much. It did always take him a while to actually work up to starting a piece, though.

However, before Ash had a chance to properly begin any of his assignments, his flatmate came storming into their make-shift office (it was about the size of a dinner table and when they'd been buying the flat, had been listed as a storage room).

"Yo, Ash, come on - Doctor Who's about to start!" Ashton laughed, despite not really understanding why Niall loved the show so much, he did make sure to watch it with him every week (although, it being a Monday, he did assume that this was actually a repeat). "I'm gonna watch in the games room this week - I think we’ve lost another of the cue sticks," Ashton laughed, shaking his head.

The games room was the room that they had originally intended to be the office. But then Niall had bought a pool table with the money he had earned for breaking the local pub's record for the highest darts score obtained after four beers and... Well, it wouldn't fit in any of the other rooms. Swinging his legs out of his black office chair, Ashton let out a small sigh, before sending off a quick tweet and allowing Niall to drag him from the room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ashton was sitting at the shelter by his local tram stop, staring at the little screen that tells you when the next one's due. There were barely any people at the stop and all of the ones that were holding huge take-away cups of what Ashton assumed was Tea, or some other caffeinated drink. Bloody morning people. He did not want to be here. He definitely did not want these people to think he was one of them. If it were up to him there is no way in hell he would be up this early - it was all Niall's fault, naturally.

Why his flatmate had felt the need to make his alarm especially early was beyond Ashton. Okay, Niall had to go in particularly early to the recording studio where he worked today - he had to set up the something-or-other - but was it necessary to wake Ashton up as well?  _Seven o'clock._ It was basically a sin, in Ashton's opinion, to be up that early. It had taken him half an hour to get ready and leave the house (15 minutes longer than usual) 'cause he'd been so bloody tired.

Looking up at the bell of the approaching tram, Ashton pulled his card from him pocket, with more effort than it should've taken (but he liked wearing skinny jeans so...). There weren't any seats left on the tram but Ashton made sure to stand in front of the poster showing the route so he could memorise which stop he needed to get off at - number 51. 51. 51. 51. 51. Don't forget that. 51.

After another short wrestling match, Ashton had successfully removed his iPod from his other pocket and set it to shuffle. He let his eyes drift shut as Oh Calamity by ATL began to play. _Just a king inside his castle..._ 51\. _Such a shame that we play strangers..._ 51\. _A wreck out of me..._ 51\. 52? 52. No, wait, it was 51.

The woman standing next to him nudged him out of the way and Ashton mumbled out an apology, sending her a smile as the song changed to Green Day - Boulevard of Broken Dreams. They went past Ashton's local branch of Lord of the Fries and he, as usual, took a few moments to appreciate its name - it never got old. The two teenage girls sitting in front of Ashton started to look at something that was happening at the other end of the tram, seeming shocked/embarrassed/amused. Ash tried to subtly crane his neck to see what was going on. 51.51. They were at 47 now, though they may not be going to every stop.

It seemed that the scene at the other end of the vehicle was beginning to escalate. Ashton got the impression that the young man, who was engaged in a... discussion with a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, had inadvertently offended the other passenger. Ash turned down his music slightly (his favourite Mayday Parade song) to better hear what they were saying.

"I'm sorry, that really wasn't I'd thought, honestl-"

"Well, what did you think then?" The woman interrupted snappily. "That I was taking up too much _space_ standing up?! Even if I did look as though I were pregnant - which I'm not by the bloody way - that would be a very rude assumption, do you not think? I'm sure you mother would think so?" She said, with increasing volume as she began gesticulating wildly, hitting all the people around her with the twenty-or-so huge bags of shopping she was carrying.

"No - I mean I'm sure she would because that would be rude but that's genuinely not what I mea-"

"I highly doubt that," The woman scoffed, looking as though she was about to launch into another rant.

"I just thought you'd like to sit down because you have so many bags! I thought it would make things easier for you! I'm sorry!" The man said, almost desperately. The woman gave him one last filthy look before storming off the tram, whacking a small child in the head with her Sussan bag as she went. The surrounding passengers exchanged looks as the mother of the little boy tried to ease his crying. Ashton couldn't help but feel a wave of anger towards the woman, not to mention he'd always been quietly irritated by Sussan - surely it was just a misspelling of the name 'Susan'?

51\. 51. Rihanna's latest single came through Ashton's (rather low quality, if he was honest) earphones and he fought against the urge to dance and/or begin drumming on the nearest surface. No one could ever accuse him of being a music snob. Not to mention the fact that he did sometimes have to write reviews of absolutely horrendous(ly cheesy) bands for Solarscape.

Ashton's surroundings snap away and suddenly he'd in a fluorescently-lit supermarket looking at a display of large green packets of sweets. God, it's been a long time since he'd had a flash (the last one was in...September?). He takes in all that he can see of his soulmate - extended arm and a long-fingered hand holding one of the packets.

"Hey, Mikey, d'you reckon I should try these? They're called, like, Percy Pigs?" Came the voice of Ashton's soulmate, distorted, always - the idea being that you shouldn't know the gender of your soulmate until you meet. He had no idea how that was arranged though, must be a psychology thing. Ashton had never really done a whole lot of research into the soulmate phenomenon the way some of his closest friends had - it was definitely fascinating but he sort of felt that knowing too much about it might dim the magic of it, or something.

" _Percy Pigs?_ They sound weird as hell." Ashton vaguely recognised that voice - it was one of the few that regularly appeared in the flashes, one of his soulmate's closest friends, he assumed. He didn’t know the voice quite well enough to match it with a face, though.

Ashton's soulmate's hand pulled the packet off the hook and turned it over. His eyes zeroed in on the price - it was in pounds. Ashton felt a juddering shock at having such a clear location for his soulmate - did that mean he was from the UK? Or just there on holiday? Ashton remembered his younger self getting excited when he noticed Katherine Gorge in a flash and took it as proof that his soulmate was also Australian.

"Perfect for you then," The voice continued, a flash of bright hair coming into view. Ashton recognised him now, if mainly from the hair alone.

"Not your best," Ashton's soulmate replied, chucking the Percy Pigs into the basket Michael (? Ashton thought so) was holding.

"Better than your face," The green-haired boy said, looking up at Ash's soulmate (Ashton could never quite work out if he was tall - his closest friends etc. were basically the same height but other people looked really bloody short in the flashes). "Oh you've finally stopped staring - this one's the chosen one, your true love?" Ashton made a mental note of the fact that it seemed to just be the two of them there - no sign of the bo0y with the most tattoos.

"Piss off," and then Ashton's back on the tram. 51. 51.51. He missed his stop. Brilliant. Nonetheless, Ashton felt a smile playing at his lips. _His soulmate._ He felt like asking one of the people on the tram - the two teenage girls, maybe - to describe, in detail, the colour his eyes went. He knew his soulmate had blue eyes but nothing more specific than that - was it like a sky blue? Or more of a cerulean? Navy blue? The colour of washed denim? There were hundreds of possibilities.

He didn't ask them though - there was a chance they were too young to have started learning about flashes in school, they didn't start until you were 14/15/16 after all - they may not even know about the changing-to-your-soulmate's-eye-colour-during-a-flash thing. So, instead of asking them, Ashton alighted the tram and began the walk home - mentally planning how he would tell Niall about what had happened.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The weather changed in the split-second way that it so often did and, by the time Ashton got home, it had turned into one of those rare wonderfully sunny days. Ash was definitely not going to waste the good weather - especially as yesterday's rain was likely to come back around at any time. Dropping his keys into the bowl by his front door, Ashton went upstairs, taking the steps two-at-a-time.

Quickly getting changed into his sports clothes, Ashton took a few minutes to rummage around for the arm-band he used to put his iPod in. He found it in the kitchen cupboard. Naturally.

Ashton shut his, abnormally heavy, front door with a loud thud and started his running playlist (mainly Rihanna and Calvin Harris). As he began his route to the local park at a slow jog, it occurred to Ashton that stretching would probably have been a good idea. Oh, well. He reckoned he was in good enough shape to not gain any serious injuries from it.

The sun was warming his skin (and, he hoped, also turning it a few tones darker - his skin tone was too close to his hair-colour at the moment) and Ashton felt a comforting feeling of contentedness washing over him. He turned the corner and unlatched the cold, wrought-iron entry-gate to the park, pulling it shut behind him. Turning up his music, Ashton set out on his 5km circuit of the park.

He'd always loved sport that had a certain rhythm to it - it was one of the reasons he'd been so into swimming when he was younger, not going so much now due to the distance from his house to the local public pool - it allowed him to relax in a way that few other enterprises did. The way that, after a while, you don't even need to think about the way you're moving your limbs was a fascinating phenomenon. That's how it is with breathing, so how can running be that same form of second-nature? Ashton thought it was the coolest thing.

His thoughts drifted away as the pounding of his trainers on the concrete path formed an interesting bass line to the background noise of various club tracks. He took in the park - autumn had always been his favourite season. All golds and oranges and browns and collecting conkers, trying to beat his younger siblings' collections in number and pumpkin pie and deliberately crunching his feet down on the bark that littered the pavements on the way to school.

Jogging past one of the ponds, Ash noticed a few sad-looking fluorescent balls floating amongst some green strands of plant. He hoped some small child wasn't too upset at having lost them.

He could feel sweat beginning to gather on his bare chest as Ashton approached the end of the first kilometre of his run. Ash looked up at the sound of a loud bark. There was a golden Labrador smiling happily, all wagging tail and shiny fur.

"Hello, buddy," Ashton said, smiling at the dog's owner, before bending down to stroke the dog. "He's gorgeous - what's its name?" He asked, looking back up at the woman holding the Labrador's lead.

"Sammy - we got him from the rescue centre a few months ago,"

"Oh, he's a new guy!" Ashton laughed, scratching behind Sammy's ears. The girl laughed.

"Yep, still getting used to the house. Lots of running around at all hours and knocking things over, y'know," She laughed, pulling her dark hair into a ponytail.

"Awww. You don't mean it do you, Sammy? You're not doing it on purpose," He continued to mumble to the dog, leaning in and stroking his soft ears (how are they always so soft?). A beeping noise sounded from the woman's watch and Ashton stood up with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," He laughed. "I'll let you guys go now," The girl smiled in return, gesturing to her dog who stood up at the order.

"Oh, it's alright - he loves the attention,"

Ashton grinned and turned around, with a small smile, to continue with his run. He turned his music back up and closed his eyes so he could get back into what he liked to call his Running-Zone-State-of-Mind-Mega-Tron-300. It was brilliantly catchy, Ashton thought.

 

* * *

 

 

The park had a hell of a lot of grass in it. It was bloody everywhere. Barely any trees or bushes or flowers or saplings or small potted geraniums, not to mention the decided lack of wild wombats. Outrageous. Ashton tried not to laugh at the thought of 'wild wombats'.

Ash was about half-way-through his run at this point and the sun was as fierce as ever. There was a round of squeals and high-pitched conversation form a nearby tree.

"Oh, you guys've done well," Ashton smiled, addressing the four boys climbing the tree - they looked to be a bit younger than his little brother. "You've managed to get really high up!"

The boys thanked him, looking thoroughly pleased. Ash shot them another friendly smile, before continuing around the corner.

The track changed on his iPod and suddenly he was listening to a thoroughly bizarre club remix of Ed Sheeran's Sing. Ashton didn't really know what was going on (and why would you do that to an Ed Sheeran song?!). He let his feet fall back into their comfortable rhythm, feeling his muscles tense, contract and relax as he moved along the rough path.

Feet thudding on the pavement. Music blending into the background. Sunshine blazing down on tanned skin. Minutes and kilometres passed.

Ash felt himself slipping back into his Running-Zone-State-of-Mind-Mega-Tron-300. The familiar rhythm seeping back into his muscles. The dramatic-film-trailer-voice that he had on standby in his head announced that the transformation was complete.

The trees around him changed and the people's faces morphed into those of others and Ashton willed himself to find a poetic description for it all. It shouldn't been as difficult as it was - he did write for a living, after all.

Ashton spotted a couple of familiar figures in the grass to left of his running path and changed direction to investigate further. The change in terrain caused him to stumble slightly but Ash reckoned he regained his footing with what could only be described as the 'epitome of grace'. He was definitely known for his grace. And coordination. And suchthelike.

"Yo," He said, grinning at his old friend, Rian, and his girlfriend. "Sorry to interrupt your date,"

"No, don't worry about it - sweaty, shirtless men are always appreciated" Cassadee laughed. Rian mock-glared at both of them for the comment. Ash had known Rian since he was about nine - they'd had the same drum teacher growing up. He'd met Cassadee the day before their soulmate ceremony, a week after Rian had met Cass. The soulmate ceremony was Ashton's favourite aspect of the whole soulmate situation; they were always held in the most gorgeous buildings - the soulmate mansions resembled the old-style churches and monasteries and synagogues. They were beautiful.

It was at the soulmate ceremonies that the couple received their Mirror Moments - the photo album of 'discs' depicting scenes of the different ways they would have met in alternate universes. Ashton thought it was magical. The ceremony was also the time that they learned how to control their 'flashes' so they could be used as a communication system between the two of them.

"D'you want a drink, mate, we have Tropicana?" Rian asked, offering Ash a plastic cup.

"The drink of the gods!" He replied, laughing.

"We also have these really gross sandwiches that Rian made, if you'd like some of them?" Cassadee offered laughingly.

"Oi, there is nothing wrong with the bloody sandwiches,"

"They're _cucumber and ham,_ " Ashton laughed, he'd forgotten how cute they were.

Anyway..." He said, jokingly, "How was Warped?"  **[A/N Imagine that Warped ends in March]**

"It was so bloody cool and such a change from last year, y'know? Like no one had a clue what we were doing there before but they actually, like, gave a damn this time,"

Ashton highly doubted Rian's analysis of last summer's tour. Maybe he was biased but he thought Rian's band were bloody brilliant. Since Hey Monday had disbanded (haha dis-band-ded haha - Ashton sense of humour was really sophisticated), they were literally his favourite band.

"I’m actually so proud of you, mate. What have you got next?" Rian grinned.

"Yeah... Now we can start preparing for Reading," He replied with wide-eyes that clearly said 'bloody hell we're actually playing at Reading this year it’s crazy bloody hell'.

"I really hope I'll get the chance to see you lot there - I've already started dropping hints about covering it for the 'zine" Ash replied, finishing off his cup of orange juice.

"Yeah - what are you up to with work at the moment?" Cass asked, her hands full of strawberries.

"I should probably head off, actually - I have a ton of assignments this week and I'm in charge of the bloody twitter feed," Ashton said, digging out his phone to shoot off a tweet at the reminder.

"Alreadyy?" Rian whined, making Ashton laugh.

"Yeah, sorry - I'll see you at some point, sometime," He said, making a face at his own vagueness.

"Great," Cass laughed.

"I'll see ya later," Ashton said, grabbing a bunch of strawberries from Cassadee's hand as he turned to leave, throwing a last wave at them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first thought Ashton had upon dragging himself out of bed on Wednesday morning is that he really should get around to reading the book he needed to review for this week's issue. The magazine's released every Saturday so all articles need to be in by Friday for printing; Ashton usually had his pieces in at the last possible moment.

After a breakfast of three microwave-heated pain-au-chocolats, Ashton immediately set his mind to his task. Reading; thanking heaven it wasn't too long of a book. Roughly 50 pages in, Ash reached a soliloquy about grief (was it a soliloquy if it wasn't in a play?) and made a note of it - it was one of those quotations that made you stop for moment to contemplate it.

100 pages in. A quarter of the way through the book. Ashton's will was fading slightly at this point. He wasn’t really a fan of reading novels. Even though he was enjoying the way it was written and the storyline, he had too much energy to just be sitting down reading a book - Ashton's personality just didn't work like that.

120 pages.

132 pages.

138 pages.

Okay Ashton was way too bored to continue at this point. He'd finish reading it later. Ashton decided to go and visit Niall at work.

Grabbing his car keys from the bowl, Ashton flung the front door closed behind him. His car was parked directly outside their house. Ashton stepped in and immediately put the radio on. There was a faint aroma of fudge in Ashton's Fiat for a reason he couldn’t fathom - he didn't even like fudge.

Drumming on the steering wheel in time to the Fall Out Boy song playing, Ashton turned right onto the road and swore quietly upon realising he forgot to indicate. He sent the driver behind him a sheepish smile through his wing-mirror. The man in the car behind sent him the middle finger in return. Charming.

Ashton quickly stopped at the service station for some petrol, impressing himself with how quickly he managed to get in and out. Getting back into the driver's seat, he wondered if it was time to get a new car. He'd had this one since he'd got his driver's licence, three years ago. There wasn't anything wrong with it, per se, but Ash did think it would be nice to have a car with a working CD player - Niall had broken his when he'd filled it with peanut butter after getting drunk at Rian's birthday party last year.

He could afford a new car - his salary was generous. As long as he could manage to sacrifice a few months' worth of Ben and Jerry’s, anyway.

Parking on the road of the recording studio, Ashton felt a rush of smugness at the fact that he and Niall had managed to find a place to live that was in such a good location - less than ten minutes from where either of them worked and brilliantly close to the centre of town. Ashton paused to nod at the security guy (Andre?), before walking into the, rather ugly, if he was being honest, cement building.

Ashton walked through the labyrinth of corridors, half-listening to the talk-show that was playing on the radio. He couldn't help but wonder how the hell Niall managed not to get lost every day. Ambling down a random corridor, Ashton happened to discover the one containing Niall's studio. He paused for a second to look into the ajar door to the studio opposite Niall's - Taylor Swift was in there and Ash thought it was the coolest thing in the world that he had engaged in, like, three conversations with her over the last year, or so, that Niall had worked there. There was a moment of eye-contact so Ash reckoned it was safe to tweet about her being back in the studio - new album? Soundtrack song?

As he had his twitter app open (and a ton more tweets to send off for the week) Ashton figured he may as well mention on another tweet that, as he's discovered from the radio playing through throughout the building, Emma Watson's new film had been announced.

Walking into Niall's studio, Ashton greeted him and sent a wave to the girl behind the glass. She nodded back at him, moving closer to the microphone as the track slowed down.

"It’s cool, right?" Niall said, referring to the song, as he gestured for Ashton to sit down.

"Yeah - her range is bloody huge," Ashton replied, widening his eyes emphatically.

"I know! And this beat is bloody sick!" Niall exclaimed. Ashton loved how enthusiastic he always was - it was probably the reason he was so successful, despite being only 20, the same age as Ashton. It was contagious and Ash was sure it was the reason he so easily got the songs he work on radio play. "This is probably our last day of recording it now - she's just doing a few more layers of harmony. Then we can start sending it off and doing meetings and stuff!" He, like Ashton, found every aspect of his work exciting and Ash was glad to be living with someone that was enjoying the way their life was turning out as much as he was.

"I brought you some crisps, by the way - how great am I?" Ashton laughed, pulling out the packet from beneath his jacket - he'd thrown it on the floor pretty much as soon as he'd entered the studio. Niall caught the packet and immediately popped it open, the sound making him laugh.

"I saw this brilliant thing on YouTube this morning..."

 

 

* * *

 

 

After a few hours, Niall had eventually kicked him out 'cause he wasn't really allowed to be there (not that that's stopped them in the past). Upon returning home, Ashton sat down again, willing himself to finish reading the book - he only had a couple of days left to write the article. He hadn't even thought about his column properly. 246 pages to go.

194 pages to go.

172 pages to go.

It was late afternoon by this point, Ashton hadn't even had lunch yet. He was bloody starving. A snack would be alright, right? He took a deep breath. No. No food until the book's finished.

144 pages to go.

121 pages to go

89 pages to go.

Okay, no he really had to have some food now. Having promised himself that he wouldn't leave the office until he’d finished the book, though, Ashton had to make do with a half-finished packet of Polos he found in the desk drawer.

76 pages to go.

62 pages to go.

48 pages to go.

39 pages to go.

22 pages to go.

It was eight o'clock now. Bloody hell. This had taken literally the entire day.

17 pages to go.

12 pages to go.

8 pages to go.

When was Niall going to get home?

6 pages to go.

4 pages to go.

Quarter-to nine.

3 pages to go.

2 pages to go.

1 page to go.

 

Maybe it would've been easier if Ashton had thought to put his glasses on before he picked the book up again. Oh, well. He let out a deep sigh, just as there was a knock on the door. His flatmate stuck his head around the door. Niall told him he was home from work (which Ashton probably could've worked out on his own) with two take-away pizzas.

"Legend."


	3. Chapter 3

Having thrown his alarm clock across the room at some early-in-the-morning time to stop its obnoxious beeping, Ashton had slept in. Groaning loudly for the umpteenth time, Ashton threw his arm out from under the duvet and pulled his phone from the bed-side table. It promptly blinded him, causing Ashton to drop it down the side of the bed. There was no way he was going to lean over to try and retrieve it - let alone while he was this exhausted.

He eventually managed to crawl out of bed at just-after 11 o' clock. He dragged himself to the bathroom to take a quick shower (no inappropriate thoughts, of course).

Niall had obviously long-since left for work so Ashton had no qualms in going straight from the shower to the kitchen to make himself some cereal for breakfast (maybe he shouldn't strictly be dripping all over the floor, though. Knowing him, he'd completely forget to clean it up and, inevitably, someone would slip over and hit their head on the granite counter, or something). 

Grabbing his bowl of freshly-made cereal, Ashton lolloped off to his office - he really needed to do some proper work now. He sat down at his desk, turning on his laptop and opening up a new Word document.

Ashton figured he would start with writing his column, knowing it wouldn't take too long - it was his favourite part of his job, after all.

He really did love his job; writing streams of words straight from his thoughts. He'd been writing for his whole life - short stories, articles, an ill-fated exploration of poetry at one point - but it was different knowing that people would end up reading these words. It was the coolest feeling in the world.

Time always passed extortionately quickly when Ashton was writing. it used to cause a ton of trouble when he was at school, he could never quite bring himself to stop writing and start his homework. After 2000 words let out a long breath and sat back in his chair.

He looked down at his watch and it's 1:52. Ashton felt a smile begin to play at his lips. On his first day of high school he'd seen a short flash of his soulmate in an exam (maths - completely over Ashton's head). His soulmate had been looking up at the clock that was fastened to the centre of the wall of what looked like a gymnasium - it had been 1:52.

* * *

 

 After grabbing a toastie and a caramel milkshake from the café on the corner of his road (the perfect lunch), Ash drove down to the office. It was a large, somewhat-imposing building - steel and glass. And concrete or brick or something, Ashton assumed, but that didn't sound as cool/futuristic/snazzy. 'Snazzy' was just one of those words that make you happy - like armadillo.

Darting through the automatic doors (Ashton had spent the last few years of his employment at the magazine trying to work out how quickly he would need to move for the sensors to not pick him up in time for the doors to open - probably not the most brilliant idea, given the obvious consequences of it happening), Ashton wake up to the reception desk.

"Morning Nic," He said, smiling at the receptionist.

"Good morning," She laughed in return, not looking up from where she was hurriedly tapping at the keys of her computer.

"Okay. Well I leave to you your work then," Ashton said, turning around. "He leaves, the sting of rejection fresh in his heart." He heard Nicola laugh. "Desperate to hold the tears off until he's out of sight," She laughed harder at that. "When he'd be able to sink down to the floor in anguish."

"Piss off and get to work, Ashton," Nic laughed, prompting Ashton to let out one of his own.

"Bye!" He called, turning to walk backward and throw her a wave on his way out.

The doors opened immediately when Ashton pressed the button for the lift and he went in, leaning himself against the back wall. He pressed the button for the third floor and sighed a little to himself. He'd done ludicrously well for himself, all things considered - he'd never really been brilliant in school but he'd managed to land what was basically his dream job within barely any time of his eighteenth. He was thoroughly satisfied (read: thrilled) with the freelance-esque arrangement he had with the magazine - he did need to go into the office everyday, only when he was handing in his pieces, but was welcome to come in whenever he liked. It came with being the most popular columnist for the most popular magazine in the state (would be in the whole country if it weren't for bloody Cairns Culture Magazine which just sounded pretentious if you asked Ashton), he supposed.

Ashton clicked open the door of his little office and made a mental note to water his rather sad-looking (nearly dead) plant. Exhaling loudly, Ashton brought up the rough review he had written for the book. He'd actually really enjoyed reading it, if he was honest - it was one of those that was deep, begging-to-be-put-on-tumblr quotations interspersed with teenage humour and language. It was the kind of writing style that John Green used, Ashton thought.

He took about half an hour fine-tuning his review before ambling down the corridor to hand it in to the editor, along with his perfected column.

"Yo, Liam," He said, leaning against the editor's door. Not that Liam was just the editor - he'd become a good acquaintance - if not a friend - of Ashton's and, by extension, Niall's over the last couple of years.

"This is both pieces?" The brown-haired man checked, with a raise of the eyebrows.

"Indeed it is - slaved over 'em," Ashton grinned. Liam laughed.

"'Course you did," He added them to the precarious-looking pile of sheets of paper on his ludicrously messy desk. "I actually have a meeting to go to now, mate, so I'll see at some point?"

Ashton nodded, sending him a mock-salute on his way out. He took a short detour to the kitchen/break area of the floor and picked up a mug, filling it with water. He took it back to his office and watered his plant, pleased with himself for remembering, before quickly typing off a stream of meaningless tweets and beginning to make his way home.

* * *

It had not escaped Ashton's notice that summer was fast-approaching in the Northern Hemisphere - festival season. Each week he hoped for his assignment envelope to mention coverage of a festival but so far he'd had merely album reviews (the new Jake Bugg an Tom Odell ones), interviews with local feminist authors (one, in particular, told him a rather terrifyingly thought-provoking allegory involving people drowning in a river) and his faithful column - one notable one being about the affects of older generations attempting to use slang.

Ashton sighed slightly and shook his rambling thoughts from his mind - he should really try to get some sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is pagetornfromabookofrules(.tumblr.com) if y'all'd like to follow...


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